


Take Me Home (Country Roads)

by Lady_of_Rohan



Series: Arcadia For Lovers [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Feelings, Fluff, Horseback Riding, M/M, Nature, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 09:30:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21492103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Rohan/pseuds/Lady_of_Rohan
Summary: After facing alligators in the bayou, Albert finds himself stranded and in need of a ride back home from none other than Mister Arthur Morgan.
Relationships: Albert Mason/Arthur Morgan
Series: Arcadia For Lovers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1544932
Comments: 13
Kudos: 113





	Take Me Home (Country Roads)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the lovely edits by elenafishersps1! 
> 
> I couldn't help myself. Part of my "Arcadia for Lovers" series. 
> 
> Takes place after Field Medicine, but before Return to Innocence and Bitten.

_'Why the hell am I doing this?'_

Wiping fat droplets of sweat from his brow, Arthur stood on the shoreline of the muddy bayou, ankle deep in murky water.

Albert had gotten his prized gator photographs, Arthur once again risking life and literal limb so that he could get the perfect shot. In all honesty, he far preferred the wild horses. Hell, he'd even take the wolves again.

He wasn't sure quite what possessed him any time he was in the presence of one Albert Mason. Whatever it was, he just couldn't seem to say no around him... no intimidation, begging, or anything required. He wasn't charismatic like Dutch. He wasn't stoic like Charles. He didn't even have a particularly pretty face, like Mary. In fact, Albert was nervous, fumbling, and yet?

He was all around, incredibly charming and endearing. And so, Arthur's catering happened naturally, his heart acting before his brain, before he could even think twice about it. He was modest, hell, even self-loathing, to boot.

To that, Arthur could heavily relate.

"I foresaw many an ignominious future for myself, but never damsel in distress!" Albert jested, from his place within the rowboat.

"Yeah, well..." Words failed him on that. What was he to say? That he fit the role well? With a scoff, Arthur waved him off.

"Good luck to you, Mister Mason. And try and stay out of trouble," Arthur said, at last.

"You too, good sir. I shall certainly try."

The two parted ways, with Arthur pushing the photographer's rowboat back out onto the water. He'd probably ridden a mile away on his horse, when he got a funny feeling in his gut just leaving him there.

Albert was, if nothing else, dependable at getting himself into danger. Approaching the water yet again, as soon as he'd turned Bones around, and Arthur's heart dropped. Albert's rowboat was abandoned, sitting still on the open water.

He immediately dismounted, holding his worn leather hat in grief.

"No... _goddammit_, Mister Mason..."

It wasn't until he gazed off into the distance, far out onto the water, that he saw a lone figure standing on one of the closest islands. They were seated, but upon hearing movement, were instantly upright from behind the thick bulrush. The bright blue and green clothing patterns immediately showed that it was Albert, safe and sound.

"Oh, Mister Morgan!" he yelled out, waving his arms frantically, as if he'd been shipwrecked for days on a deserted island. "Thank heavens you came back!"

"The hell you doin' out there?" Arthur shouted back, "thought you was headin' home?"

"Well, you see... I... _was_... but then, well, I lost the paddle... and--"

Arthur chuckled, happy that he had returned before the gators got him first.

"You lost... the paddle? I'd ask how you managed that, but..."

"I know, I know. I am an inconceivable dunce. Your assistance, please?"

"Sure thing. But, I swear, if I end up in that gator's mouth..."

Albert gave a flourishing bow. "Then I shall gratefully join you as his dinner, my debts repaid."

Waist-deep in murky water, Arthur prayed he didn't attract attention from the hungry predators as he sloshed as quickly as he could out towards the island. Thank goodness, the creatures seemed to have settled back on the farther banks, as evening approached.

Though it would be an amazing feat of masculinity to shoot one in front of Albert, the way the man spoke so highly of them, he'd honestly want to spare him from witnessing such a sight. If he could, of course.

Logically, if one came within three feet of them, he was gonna shoot it in the face.

As he climbed up onto the bank, Arthur extended his arms towards the clearly shaken man.

"Come here, damsel."

"Hrm?"

"Can't have you gettin' yourself soaked."

Before Albert could protest, Arthur had Albert's bag of supplies in one arm, and he bent with the other extended, easily gripping Albert behind the knees and hefting him over his shoulder as if he was carrying a hog-tied bounty.

"Oh! I'm... well, this is rather unexpected."

"Hold on, now," Arthur chuckled, "I'll try not to drop ya."

"That would certainly be preferable."

A tease, of course. With the other man balanced over his broad shoulder, hanging there as he gripped at the material of the back of Arthur's shirt and held onto his straw hat to keep it in place, Arthur secured him with his hand on his ass.

He was taking it a bit more leisurely, being careful with his precious cargo, when he heard Albert give a yelp.

"Oh dear, I heard something splash!"

"Well, _shit_."

Knees lifted higher to carry him through the remainder of the thick swamp more swiftly, he'd either be dropping Albert or his bag of very pricey camera equipment to grab his pistol, in the event that an alligator struck them. That, he'd very much like to avoid.

Hustling it, breath coming out in labored puffs, Arthur managed to carry him back to the shoreline, sloshing as he got him back to safety. They'd just hardly hit dry land, when the scales of an alligator's back could be seen rising from the murky depths, just a yard or two from where they'd just been. With a sigh of relief, he gently let Albert back down, but not before giving his butt a gentle pat. Once Albert was situated, back on solid ground and smoothing out his clothes, he noticed how reddened the other man's face had become.

"I am once again, indebted to you, Mister Morgan..." he said, adjusting his hat, and glancing grimly out at the water and his abandoned boat. "My god... that was close"

Arthur shrugged, repositioning his grip on the arm that carried Albert's hefty bag.

  
  
"I noticed Huckleberry's not here."

Arthur had looked around for Albert's horse, as he and Bones got along splendidly. But, he hadn't caught sight of him even during their photographic adventure.

"I figured it was unsafe territory," Albert said gently, seemingly catching his breath. "And he frightens easily."  
  


"So, perfect match, then." Arthur smirked.

"Very funny, Mister Morgan."

Giving his arm a well-mannered pat, Arthur moved towards his horse. "You need a ride home, then?"

"Oh, I couldn't possibly bother--"  
  


"Mister Mason, you're in the middle of nowhere. I ain't lettin' you _walk _there. Not with your penchant for trouble."

"I suppose you're right... I'm not staying far from here."

With a loud whistle, Arthur called his beautiful steed over, his beloved Bones, and situated Albert's belongings on one of his saddle hooks. Arthur hopped on first, reaching down to extend a hand and help Albert on.

"Hop on up."

Reaching for him, his cold and clammy hand in the warmth of his own, the nervous photographer was soon hefted upwards and situated behind him, knees straddled around Arthur's hips as he sat just behind Bones' saddle.

"So where we headed?" Arthur asked, hands on the reins as Bones whinnied.

"On the outskirts of Saint Denis. I'm renting a cottage there."

"Sounds real fancy."

"As fancy as one can be, with my meager earnings."

Arthur chuckled. "Hopefully these gator photos'll be worth somethin'."

"After that fiasco, I certainly hope so!"

"If not... well, we have our other pictures to fall back on."

He meant, of course, his unlikely career as a photographic subject, himself. A kick of his spurs, and Bones was off. Arthur was careful not to ride too swiftly, in case Albert took a tumble. The other man's arms were soon around his waist, holding onto him and anchoring himself.

Arthur found it interesting, as most men riding together wouldn't hold onto the other for dear life. A warmth spread through him, feeling the grip of Albert's fingertips against his pink shirt.

"You cozy back there?" Arthur asked, with a cough and a clearing of his throat.

"Yes, quite! Thank you."

The scenery passed them by in all its splendor, lazy hanging moss and the thick, foggy air, orchids offering salutations with their petals waving in the breeze as they rode by.

The sky soon darkened with clouds, looking like a storm was brewing. Lemoyne's weather was as colorful as its wildlife, both beautiful and dangerous. Arthur had gotten caught in the torrential downpour there once or twice, and had to seek shelter in Saint Denis until it blew over.

He hoped it would pass by the time he arrived at Albert's abode... especially after going through the effort of keeping the other man dry.

They rode along, and eventually, Arthur felt a warm weight against his back, between his shoulder blades. He didn't need to look over his shoulder to realize that Albert was leaning his head against him.

"That comfortable, huh?"

When Albert didn't answer, Arthur chuckled. Poor feller must have fallen asleep... he couldn't blame him, with the stress of the day and narrowly escaping mother nature's wrath, yet again.

He wondered how it looked to any passing travelers... two men on his horse, one with their arms around the other, sleeping soundly against him. They were more fitted to some storybook, like he'd seen once as a child. He vividly recalled imagery of a medieval knight rescuing his lady, and taking her upon his horse, riding her back to safety.

Arthur felt a little odd about how comfortable the thought was to him, picturing them like that. What was he thinking? He was a grown damned man, and far too old for silly picture book fantasies.

It flustered him so much, it made him think out loud.

_"Why the hell am I doing this?" _he mumbled to himself.

Traversing through that muggy bayou, nothing but the sound of distant thunder and his horse's hooves clattering against the worn country roads, an answer came to mind.

Because, against all odds, he _wanted to_. And somehow, Arthur was just fine with that... damsel or not.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: As a gay myself, I am not stereotyping one of them as the man and one as the woman. Albert calls himself a damsel and it's just for fluffy cuteness' sake! I feel like they're both extremely evenly paired, and share a healthy loving partnership and bring out the best in each other :)


End file.
